


The Other Side

by Aeroblitz



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeroblitz/pseuds/Aeroblitz
Summary: The two key players in the Cybertronian war aren't Optimus Prime and Megatron; they're Prowl and Starscream. Skills different, but equally matched, the war can't end with them on different sides. Of course, both Megatron and Optimus know this, and the race to acquire both factions SiC to the other side is on.





	The Other Side

After being shot to the ground, Starscream barely had time to get up from the surface of Cybertron, that he landed on before he was roughly thrown and pinned under the rubble’s cover.

“Prime!” The seeker gasped, comprehending the identity of his capturer.

“Starscream. Right here, right now, I’ll set an offer out.” Optimus grounded out, quickly. “Come with me. I’ll cut you free.”

“From what?” The seeker asked. Surely he had misheard, and the Autobot leader would just offline him.

“You’re locked in a cage. You're fighting for past glory days, that have been long since over.”

“You’re insane!” Starscream spat.

Optimus shook his helm, “Don’t lie; I know you see it.”

Suspicion peaked in the Decepticon’s optics and field. “And so? I quite enjoy the life I’m living.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the other side of the battlefield, a similar conversation was taking place.

“Be logical. Your city fell. Imagine all the lives you can save if you join the other side.”

The words jabbed Prowl, like salt added to a fresh wound. He glared up at the Decepticon Leader, not able to do much else as he was cornered. “You mean your side.”

“Obviously. You can be a great asset to me.”

“Thanks, but no. You stay with yours, I stay with mine.” The strategist protested, venomously. No pit slagging way was he aligning himself with evil.

The warlord smirked, “You say that now. But it’ll happen in the end.”

“I beg to differ. I quite enjoy my place, I will not ally your wrongdoings with my face.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In unity with the tactician, the seeker told the opposing leader point blank, “I do not need the other side.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My answer is no!” Starscream said throwing back the data packet back to its writer, spinning around the battleground to reach the mech he wanted before anyone else could.

“Surely you see the tyranny!”

“Not happening!”

“Come with me now. Soon you’ll be flying free!” Optimus appealed to the flier’s love of the sky

“You say I’m stuck in a cage, but with no lock, I don’t need a key!” The seeker yelled back, defiantly.

“You do need one for your lab.” Optimus quietly stated, loud enough only for the intended mech’s audials.

“What?” The seeker spoke in shock.

“You have my comm frequency. Call me when you wish to return to your scientific pursuits.”

“But my files…” Starscream murmured sadly. Originally they were held deep in the archive, but in a method to subdue the fighter jet Megatron had ordered their eradication from all of the databases.

“They wait for you, like the prototypes you left behind.”

“What?! Give them back!” The tetrajet demanded.

“Then join me on the other side.” Was the reply. Then Optimus was gone, parted from the Seeker within the chaos of the fight.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prowl walked into his quarters, ready for a relaxing few joors to recharge. Apparently, recharge wasn’t ready for him. The box of his berth made sure of that. The Praxian stared at it before moving closer. There was a datapad on top, which Prowl turned on to read before he opened the box to reveal it’s content.

“Hello, Prowl.” The rough voice of the Decepticon leader filtered through.

The Praxian’s optic ridge flew up incredulously. “Another gift? Is my refusal to join you not evident enough?”

“Now, now,” the grey mech chided, “This goes beyond mere polish and high grade and other luxuries.”

“Is that so?”

“Open your present.”

Prowl frowned but did as the Warlord asked. He had to admit the Decepticon leader had provoked curiosity within him. Seeing the gift Prowl tried hard to stifle an amazed gasp, but it had already left the Praxian.

“Is this an acid pellet gun?”

Megatron smirked, “Indeed. I had my top scientists create the scheme, the Constructicons were very honored to craft it. I suppose it meets your standards?”

Running a servo slowly and softly over the rifle, the Autobot tactician only graced Prime’s arch nemesis with a silent nod. Finally, he whispered, “It is beautiful.”

“I relay that to its designers.”

A beat of silence past without a reply. The tactician was too busy admiring the complex design and simple functioning of the gun. Obviously, this was no little thing. And Prowl loved it. “Why make this for me?”

A snort came out of the audio feed, “Have you seen that thing you Autobots call weapons? Bah, it pathetic! And a brilliant mech such as you deserves an equally brilliant gun. Not that outdated blaster from the Golden Age.”

“This isn’t going to change my mind,” Prowl responded curtly. Yes, the rifle was beautiful. Yes, it probably took up vast resources and time from its creators. And yes, the current weapon Prowl was forced to use paled in comparison to the Decepticon gift. But the was no way that the tactician would betray the Autobots over a gun.

“You haven’t fired it yet. One day, Prowl. One day you’ll join the other side.” Megatron vowed, shutting off the link before the Autobot could say anything else.

Prowl looked down at the rifle again, picking it. Despite being made from the sturdiest materials the gun was surprisingly light and comfortable in Prowl’s grip. The actual levels of care and customs that were put in the weapon were noted in full detail. The Decepticon army had really put in their finest effort this time.

He may not have been fully swayed about leaving yet, but he figured that accepting and trying out the weapon would be the least he could do.

At the weapon range, the other Autobots watched in awe as their SiC fired round after round with perfect precision with the new weapon. It was amazing to watch, the curves and sleekness of the gun giving a fitting complement to the tactician’s own sharp edges and streamlined movements.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Clang._ Fist collided with faceplate. _Thump._ His body was thrown to the floor. _Slam_ The large ped landed heavily on his chassis.

“Ack!” Starscream choked, weakly clawing at the larger mech, as the tyrant’s other servo wrapped around his throat. 

The grey ped was lifted, thundering back down on the Nemesis’s floor. In turn, the Seeker was jerked upwards, just below optic level with the former gladiator.

Before the flier could say anything he was thrown into the air again, only stopping when he impacted the wall. It hurt more than it should have.

Scampering into a kneeling position, Starscream cried, “M-my lord! I don’t understand! P-please have mercy.” And once, the Seeker actually didn’t know what he had done wrong. Every other time he had failed a mission or had tried to overthrow the other mech. But recently he was on his best behavior; there was no plot in the workings. And that scared him.

Megatron tramped over to where his Second was. The permanent scowl of the Decepticon leader’s faceplates was only further intensified by the deep blood red glare of the tyrant’s optics.

Starscream watched in horror as the telltale purple glow of the fusion cannon grew more evident. “PLEASE!” Starscream yelled frantically, throwing himself to the floor, curling himself into a protective ball, trying to become smaller and smaller.

The Decepticon SiC felt the horrible burning sensation, before the deafening roar of the cannon had ceased. Equally as loud the Seekers blood-curdling shrieks force the other Decepticon on the bridge to lower their audials and plug in said audials to semi-escape the noise.

More than one winced. Like the Air Commander, none of them knew what the Vosnian had done to angry their leader _this_ time. In fact, the only thing Starscream had done was hand in Megatron’s requested aerial tactics early and politely.

Before Starscream entered stasis from the mass damage from his frame, the Seeker heard one statement, “You’re not my tactician.”

With that statement the Seeker also came to a conclusion: _It’s time…_

Then the flier fell into an injury-induced oblivion.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Autobots, it is time to end the war. Intelligence has stated that the Air Commander is down, and with my new tactics I believe we might finally have a shot at destroying Megatron’s regime.”

Amid the hooting and hollering of the ecstatic Autobots, one of the offers stood ridged. A normal sight in its entirety, but if one of them took the time to study the Praxian’s slightly more flared and raised doorwings than usual or perhaps the dark gleam to the tactician’s optics, they would have know better.

_My tactics._ Prowl replayed in his helm, repeating his Prime’s words. _His_ tactics. Not _our tactics._ Not _Prowl’s tactics_. But of course not? Why should he, the Chief Military Tactician get any credit? 

He would get the blame, should they fail though. He always had and this time would be no different than before. Never by Prime, and certainly not Jazz. But Ratchet with the injury count. Ironhide about not enough preparations. The Scouts with not enough info. The frontliners for losing friends. The Special Ops bots for being ambushed. He had heard it all by now. Multiple times. And there was no way to stop it.

It did not matter how long he had slaved over those plans. How much he removed himself from society, ignoring his own energon and recharge needs to save the most amount of mechs possible. His efforts would never be enough.

Succeeding was nearly as bad, but for an entirely different reason. Whereas all his flaws would come light with a mission’s non-fulfillment, he would be completely ignored in triumphant endings. Instead, all the credit for his brilliant tactics would be attributed to their figurehead of a leader, and the other officers with more showy positions. And there was no other option than to just accept that…

Well, actually, that was not true, Prowl noted. There was another faction. A group of mechs, who on the field not only feared the plans he created but respected them. Many times in later skirmishes would embrace the tactician’s old strategies, following them to the glyph. Only breaking off to give a nod or two in acknowledgment for the true creator.

It was an intriguing idea, the Praxian thought, tracing a servo over the gun he received vorns ago. Before he would never have even considered such an idea, but now…

_It’s a risk worth taking._

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wings twitched as the datapad’s link was finally established. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Of course. Have you set a position?” The red and blue mech on the connect screen press

“I have. My side is wrong. It’s clear we lost our true mission.” The truth rang painfully in the flier’s spark. 

The Autobot’s optics brightened with hope. After so many long millenniums of trying, the probable answer coming from the seeker could win him the war. “Indeed. So you’re ready to give up on what you believe in?”

Starscream laughed, “From where I am now? It would cost me greatly, but I believe we can sort out the final conditions.”

“I will see you in the Autobot holding brig after the battle then?”

“Until then.” The call was hung up as Starscream started to prepare for the briefing and battle.

Breems later Starscream flew with his trine and the other Decepticons to the energy raid site. It wasn’t long before the Autobots lead by Optimus Prime interrupted the energon production and the fight began. Before breaking off from the triangle formation to do what he had to do, Starscream sent a pulse of love/apology/concern/comfort to Thundercracker and Skywarp over the trine bond. Because he’d be damned if he left without saying goodbye to the two other seekers.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Prowler?” Jazz called after his friend who was close to the doorway. “Where ya off to?”

“A meeting.” Came the doorwinger’s vague reply.

“A meeting.” The visored mech repeated deadpan.

“That is correct.”

“In da middle of da night?” The agent folded his arms over his chest, tone incredulous. 

“It’s a long drive to New York,” Prowl responded. That wasn’t a lie, he was going to have a meeting at the east coast, specifically in New York, but the ‘what’ and ‘who’ the meeting was with was very different from the saboteur assumed.

“Yeah, that it is. Ya goin’ to the UN political thingy then?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Ah won’t keep ya then. See ya when ya get back?”

Before Prowl could stop himself he responded quietly, “I doubt that.”

The suspicious behavior that Prowl had just gotten rid of in Jazz had returned. Most bots would have missed the comment, but Jazz wasn’t the SpecOps head of the army for nothing. “Whaddaya mean ya doubt it?”

“Optimus has made it clear that I need to transfer to another base. There I will be taking up another leadership position.” That was sort of the whole story, Prowl admitted, omitting all the parts about the Decepticons. The explanation was condensed but truthful. And Prowl knew that deception was best given as the truth.

Visibly Jazz slumped but tried to appear happy for his friend. The SpecOps head wrongly believed his best friend was getting a base and unit of his own command, instead of only being XO of the elite. If he had known that the Praxian’s entire position, except for faction, would be the same, he would have obviously protested. “Awesome, mech! Yer gonna do great! I’m gonna miss ya though...”

That stung briefly in the strategist’s spark. Out of the entire base, except for perhaps Bluestreak, only the other black and white would truly miss him. To be perfectly honest, “I will miss you as well, Jazz. Fear not, however, as I will remain on Earth. If you still want to be friends, I look forward to our next meetings.”

Jazz perked up happily, “‘Course I wanna still be yer friend Prowler! Forever an’ always, mech.” Ever emotional, and touchy-feely, the Autobot’s unofficial morale officer enveloped the Praxian in a hug squeezing tightly.

Knowing this would be the last hug from the first Cybertronian Prowl had ever called a friend, the tactician hugged back just as fiercely. He had to fight back the suspicious looking lubricant forming in his optics as a new thought filtered through. _Never make promises you can not keep, Jazz._ Because once the saboteur pieced everything together, Prowl knew that ‘forever and always’ would cease to apply.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
From the time he was ‘captured,’ as the Autobot troops believed, Starscream did not have long to wait in that ghastly orange place they called a brig. In fact, nearly immediately after the battle ended, Prime gave his subordinates the order to take the fighter jet to one of the conference rooms.

They did so happily, convinced that their Prime was calling the Decepticon SiC for an interrogation. Starscream knew better, and Optimus most certainly did as well. Neither one were going to pass out that information to anyone yet though. At least, not until the contract was made and signed.

Reaching the place where the deal was to be made, Optimus had his mechs leave the room. Once they were alone the semi-truck immediately uncuffed the flier, so they could get down to business.

“Sit down,” Optimus gestured, taking a seat himself. Settled in he passed over a datapad to the current Decepticon, “I have taken some time to draft a contract.”

Starscream accepted the file and opened it to read. Every now and then he hummed or nodded at what he had read. 

_Freedom around the base; including access to all public places._ That was good. He didn’t really care for hanging out with the buckets of bolts that were in this army, but the promised access to labs and medical care was important.

_Full amnesty to you and your supporters_ Oh. Well, it was to be expected, but it was good there was a printed copy legalizing it. It would make the transition of his Air Force so much easier.

_Ability to fly where and whenever._ By birthright any Seeker was entitled to that ability. Or they were… before the energon crisis and the war. After that flight time was heavily restricted allowing for only short free flights in addition to patrols and training. Now free flights were abolished, and trines were forced to train while the flew on patrol. So of course, this promise was important.

A few other statements were made but Starscream’s keen optics saw something, or rather the lack of something, that he found necessary.

“I admit your proposal is intriguing, but exactly what percentage of Command will I be taking?”

“Excuse me?” Optimus asked not expecting the question.

“You heard me. You can’t seriously believe that I’d leave my current post for nothing!” Starscream exclaimed disbelievingly. The notion that the Autobot would do that was ridiculous.

“Fair enough, you’d require being part of the action. I give you my Air Corps.”

Starscream sneered, “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what I’d be getting. Five untrained, terrified, innocent children, an annoying minibot, a stupid Dinobot, and my ex-partner. Nothing important… No, I’ll walk away, stay in my current place… _Unless_...”

“Unless what?” Prime asked concerned, he had to make the deal. He couldn’t win the war without the seeker.

“25% of the entire force, with the Air Corps as a bonus.” Starscream set down his card on the table. To a normal listener, 25% was only a fourth of the troops, which could be marked off as not that big of a deal. Of course, Starscream didn’t make it to his place in the Con ranks for nothing. In reality, once the other Seekers joined with him, and Starscream had no doubt that they would, the Decepticon Air Commander would be leading over half of the Autobot army. He just had to play the game and not deal out all his cards.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No way. I’ll give 5%.” Megatron frowned at the tactician. Afterall the Decepticon army had done for that mech, the Autobot had the sheer nerve to ask for a whole quarter of _his_ army.

Prowl frowned right back, “You asked me to be a Commander. 5% is barely a medium-sized detail.”

Megatron gritted his denta together, the mantra in his helm kept telling him not to blow this. For the first time in forever, his nemesis’s most brilliant, most capable officer had finally agreed to a meeting. An opportunity like this would likely never happen again if he blew it now. Because slag Starscream’s, Soundwave’s, and Shockwave’s efforts, (if the former of the three really gave any effort at all…), they just didn’t have Prowl’s skill! No, he had to win over the Praxian, that was the _only_ way to end the war with Decepticon victory.

"I’ll make it 10%."

The strategist snorted and stood up to walk out. “Please, that’s barely an upgrade. Optimus still doesn’t know about our exchange… I can easily make a better deal with him. Good day, Megatron.”

The gun-former’s optics widen with shock and desperation. If later asked the reason for his outburst, he would blame it on those two emotions. “Fine, 25%! Please! I-we need you!”

The tactician smirked pleased with the share he was receiving. He knew the Decepticon leader would see it in his way. The strategist executed a perfect militant about-face and marched back over to the former gladiator. He struck out a hand to shake his new Commander’s. “I am glad we agree."

Megatron smirked back, and in another base of the opposite side of the nation a semi-truck undid his battle mask and smiled. Simultaneously, and without knowing the tables actually wouldn’t turn at all, the two Faction heads shook the servo of their new Second.

_"Welcome to the other side.”_


End file.
